


Declaration

by LadyIrina



Series: Corruption and Redemption [9]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: M/M, OR IS HE, Scary Vasya, Wane is cray cray, annoyed Percival, enabler Theseus, jealous Credence, man smut, yet again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 09:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14446209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina
Summary: Percival discovers what happens when his partner gets jealous, Credence and Theseus decides to haunt Wane Bathory and Makarov shows why people shouldn't underestimate him.Three stories which aren't really connected yet kinda are.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just can't stop writing about these guys. I apologize.   
> For this I blame Gentrychild and every reader who leaves a comment which fuels my writing muse!

Credence and Theseus had been planning their visit to Wane Bathory for weeks. Twenty years had passed since the Great War and his capture, but they still liked to pop by and torment him from time to time. That was probably why Credence was so slow to notice it, but when he opened the front door of the house after the bell rang and found himself facing a beautiful, young man by the name of Frank Valdosta, he suddenly remembered all the calls Percival had gotten from his assistant. There had been a lot of calls. At all hours.

Over the years, Percival had tried out several jobs, had countless assistants, but none of them had ever been this young or handsome. With big doe-eyes, pitch black hair and golden skin, the man in his early twenties had to top it off with a gorgeous smile as well; asking if Mr. Grady was home to receive a letter. (Peter Grady being Percival Graves’ current fake name.)

Credence decided he hated Frank Valdosta.

Snatching the letter, Credence managed a forced smile. “I’ll give it to him. Thanks.” And slammed the door in his face.

After that, he was only TOO keenly aware of Percival going to work where that pretty young thing was waiting for him. (Credence had only been slightly younger when he ran off with Percival Graves and despite how Credence’s face kept its youthful look; he was now in his sixties!) Knowing Percival spent hours upon hours with his assistant and Valdosta still had to call the house at least once a day, it resulted in Credence ending up more than a little annoyed. 

“You’re not seriously worried?” Theseus asked one night, smiling a little. “Percy’s only got eyes for you, love. You know that.”

Credence’s frown deepened. “I’m not worried about Percival.” Which was semi-true. He didn’t think he would sleep with Valdosta, but it wasn’t unthinkable that he enjoyed admiring a pretty, young face at his office instead of the face he’d woken up to for over forty years now. “I just resent that boy thinking it is okay to slobber all over a man who is already claimed.”

Theseus’ smile widened and his eyes glimmered with mischief. “Well then… There’s only one thing to do.”

“What?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Theseus said, leaning closer. “Now listen here…”

-

The one thing which repeated itself about Percival’s jobs was that they all included lots of paper-work, they were close to impossible to understand anything about and he earned a lot of No-Maj money from them. This latest one was no different.

Walking towards Percival’s office, Credence was both pleased and irritated when Valdosta appeared like a bad smell and got in his way. Smiling sweetly, Frank raised his eyebrows. “Can I help you, sir?”

Credence smiled ever so sweetly back. “I’m here to speak with Mr. Grady.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but I don’t think he’ll mind.” Credence replied, still smiling, walking past him and ignoring the stuttered objections as Valdosta scrambled after him. He reached out and opened the door to Percival’s office before the rude youngster could prevent him.

Percival Graves was in the middle of writing something and glanced up with both annoyance and curiosity which quickly turned into a look of approval at the sight of Credence. “This is a pleasant surprise.” Then he frowned. “Or is it? Is there something wrong?”

“Nothing wrong,” Credence chirped. “I just needed to clarify a detail with you.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Grady.” Valdosta exclaimed nervously. “I tried to stop him!”

Lifting a hand for silence, Percival then gave a magnanimous shake of his head. “It’s perfectly fine. You can go.”

Credence glanced back at the young man with smug satisfaction and when he didn’t instantly go away, he added; “You heard him; you can go.” Stepping inside the office, Credence slammed the door shut and was vaguely disappointed that he didn’t actually manage to hit Valdosta in the face with it.

Percival got up and rounded his desk to walk over to Credence. “So, what brings you here, Credence?”

Stepping forward, Credence reached up, took his face between his hands and moved in for a slow kiss. He heard Percival make a satisfied hum and felt his fingers brush by his hips, exactly the response he was looking for. 

“What…” Percival began, mumbling against Credence’s lips, but Credence merely deepened the kiss. That brought a rumbling sound of approval from Graves and a flicker of triumph to Credence. He followed it up with using every trick he knew with his lips, teeth and tongue to lure more sounds from him and heat up his blood. It went from a mere greeting to something far more lewd.

Eventually Percival pulled back a little to regain control. His breathing was a little faster than normal and his eyes were filled with lust and regret. “Later. I promise. I have to…”

Credence took a hold of his shoulders, turned their positions around and pushed him against the office door. 

This brought a surprised smile to Graves’ face, clearly unprepared for the move and appearing a little impressed that Credence would be that forward, but Credence merely fetched up against him again and kissed the smile away as he began to open Percival’s belt.

He felt when Percival shuddered under his touch and he felt it when he surrendered.

-

Once the belt was undone, Credence opened the pants as well before pulling Graves’ shirt up so he could kiss his way down his stomach while slowly getting on his knees.

Percival was watching him with those dark eyes of his, all of his sharp focus on Credence now, and he didn’t even flinch when there was a knock on the door he was leaning against.

“Sir? Those reports you asked for just arrived.” Valdosta said from the outside.

Percival didn’t take his eyes off Credence. “Later, Frank.”

“But, sir…”

“I said; later, Frank.”

Resenting the fact that Percival was on a first name basis with that obnoxious child, Credence’s knees had barely settled on the floor before he impatiently uncovered Percival’s lovely cock and pulled him into his mouth as deep as he could.

Percival thumped his head back against the door at the overwhelming sensation and his hands shot to the sides out to support himself; accidentally knocking over a lamp standing on the table next to them. Credence merely took a firm hold of his hips and began to work him without mercy.

“Sir?” Valdosta sounded worried. “A-are you okay? Is everything okay?”

Eyes shut tight, breathing hard and trying to be quiet about it, it took no small amount of willpower for Percival to gather himself. “M fine.” He managed to speak in a somewhat normal sounding voice, but then Credence gave a particularly hard suck and Percival mouthed a mute moan towards the ceiling. His hips jerked forward and he shuddered hard before he could speak again. “Everything is fine.” He licked his lips, trembling with the strain to sound unaffected while Credence was taking him apart. “I’ll see those reports later...” 

“Okay…” 

To Credence’s satisfaction, Valdosta’s voice sounded suitably rejected. Good. He rewarded Percival’s sensible choice of prioritizing by manipulating a small amount of the Obscurus to slide up under Graves’ shirt to trail up his torso with a cold caress. The act made Percival’s skin twitch; leaving goose bumps in its wake where it brushed sensitive spots. It also made the man himself finally open his dazed eyes to watch Credence work.

The combination of Credence’s hot, demanding mouth and the icy touch of the Obscurus soon caused Percival to place a warning touch to Credence’s cheek, but Credence neither slowed down nor eased up. He then slid his fingers into Credence’s hair instead, taking a hold there, needing something to anchor him.

Moments later, Percival grit his teeth hard, shut his eyes and shook helplessly as he was dragged into a powerful release. Clenching muscles made him curl slightly in on himself and magic rolled off him in waves; causing several items to rattle in the office. He was clearly fighting hard to stay quiet, looking like he was in pain until it began to ease up and he slumped back against the door to take gulps of air, releasing his grip on Credence’s hair.

While Percival was struggling to catch his breath somewhat discretely, Credence made him decent again with a slight smirk on his lips. He had just straightened and put his final touch on Percival’s shirt when the former Auror had clearly recovered enough and placed his hand on Credence’s groin; clearly intending to return the favor. 

While there was no mistaking the hardness of Credence’s cock, he merely gave Percival a sweet smile and gently removed the hand. “That,” he said cheerfully, leaning in for a final and chaste kiss, “will be waiting for your touch at home.” He knew only too well how much Percival loved to watch him as he took him apart with lingering caresses until Credence begged to come. “Now I’ll leave you to your charming assistant and your fascinating reports. I’ll see you after work.”

Before Percival could object, Credence had disapparated away.

Still a little out of breath and with his mind spinning at what had just happened; Percival Graves saw his reflection in the window. He took note of how several strands of his dark hair had slid out of place to frame his face, the sheen of sweat on his upper lip, as well as his too bright eyes, and he knew anyone casting a single glance at him would know exactly what he’d been up to.

He also realized he wouldn’t be able to get a single thing done for the rest of the day as all he’d be thinking of was what was waiting for him at the house… Percival knew this was pure manipulation from Credence’s side, but he loved their little battles. It was one of the many things which kept them from tiring of each other.

Percival Graves would just have to tell Frank he was heading home early today! He had a little payback to deliver…


	2. Chapter 2

Since Theseus refused to travel by Obscurus, they had gone by train and on the final night before their visit to Wane; Credence spent hours staring up at the ceiling in the darkness of their hotel room.

Eventually he couldn’t stand it anymore and got up from his bed. Quietly, hoping not to disturb Theseus in the bed next to his, he managed to tip-toe halfway to the door before he was halted by a drowsy voice.

“Something wrong?” Theseus asked, not moving from where he was sprawled on his stomach on the bed, hugging his pillow.

“Can’t sleep.” Credence confessed, not bothering to hide the truth from the man, as he knew Theseus had an uncanny ability to sniff out lies. “I’m a little uneasy about tomorrow, I guess.” And he sorely missed being able to curl up to Percival and leech on his stoic presence to steel his own resolve.

Theseus grunted before lifting up the covers on his bed. “Get your pert, little arse over here.”

Exhaling a fond smile, Credence made his way over and crawled into bed. He also smiled a little as he was maneuvered over on his side and Theseus curled up close behind him, wrapping an arm around his torso and feeling gloriously warm.

While Percival always wore his expensive silk pajamas, Credence (and a random cleaning lady) discovered on their first Wane-terrorizing-trip that the Brit preferred to sleep without a stitch of clothing on him. After that incident, Credence had ordered that he at least had to keep his damn underwear on from the waist down and Theseus had reluctantly agreed to it.

Theseus made a little hum against his neck. “Right then, little bird, talk to me. We’ve done this visit many times before. You’re not still worried about Percy’s assistant?”

Credence exhaled a silent laugh. “No. No, that’s… Your advice took care of that. I’m not worried.” He hesitated and bought himself a little time with sliding his fingers over Theseus’s hand. “It’s just that… It feels weird; him having a part of me. I can sense it; how mangled and rabid it is, caught between being in pain and wanting to inflict pain. It shouldn’t exist, Theseus. It’s wrong.”

Theseus rested his stubbled chin on Credence’s shoulder. “Are you thinking about following Percy’s advice?”

Graves had been adamant from the day of Wane’s defeat that the man should not be allowed to live.

“No…” Credence replied, sounding anything but confident. “No, I still think that would be too easy for him. Death is easy.” He sighed. “I thought about asking Newt to try to separate them, but… I don’t think he can. Even their connection is wrong. And this thing stronger than before. It grows as time passes.”

“Doesn’t that mean Wane is becoming more dangerous? That he’ll eventually be able to break free?”

“Doubt it.” Credence mused. “Like I said, everything is wrong about it. Including how it grows. It doesn’t function like me, it feels like parts of it increases while other parts remain the same or curling in on itself, it’s hard to explain…” 

“It certainly sounds wrong,” Theseus agreed, “but unless you want to kill Wane, I suggest we stick to our original plan and haunt the bugger like he so rightly deserves.” He placed a lingering kiss to Credence’s shoulder. “If you feel like sitting this one out, I’d be happy to haunt him for you. Whatever you want, poppet.”

Credence considered it and came to his conclusion. “We’ll go together. I want to see his face and remind him of his failure.”

He could feel Theseus smile and the caress of his words; “That’s my boy.”

And after that, it was dangerously easy for Credence to turn over to nuzzle against the warm skin and find sleep in the reassuring embrace.

-

The next day, they made their way to where the Ministry kept Wane Bathory locked up while they were trying to discover how he had managed to create his own Obscurus. As years had gone by, security around Bathory had lessened slightly, but it he was still one of the most heavily guarded prisoners of the Ministry and that meant that Credence and Theseus had to be a little creative while sneaking in.

Disguised as two men who worked there, they made their way to the lowest level of the building where Wane was being held and once outside his door, Theseus shifted over to his other disguise.

Credence, still appearing to the world as an ashen haired wizard in his thirties, took a deep breath and entered the room. Inside it was a cot, a small table with a single chair, and curled up in the far end corner of the cot; a familiar man in magic suppressing chains.

“If hope has flown away, in a night, or in a day, in a vision, or in none, is it therefore the less gone?” Wane mumbled absently. “All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream…”

Time had been kind to Wane Bathory, much like it had been to Credence, but he looked tired. His curly hair was even wilder than before and it was evident that he had not bothered or been allowed to shave for several days. His eyes, still changing color depending on the light, abruptly flicked up from where he’d been staring at the ground and Wane smiled a little. “There you are. I was wondering when you’d show up, Credence.”

Slightly unnerved that he could see through his disguise that easily, Credence frowned and shed his fake appearance. He’d never been able to see through their tricks before.

Wane glanced over to the figure next to Credence, seemingly unable to see through that one, and now it was his turn to frown. “They let you out? I thought they swore to lock you up in Nurmengard until you croaked? Or did some weird noseless wizard kill you? Are you a ghost?” He let out a little laugh and shook his head. “I’m having trouble remembering what is real these days.”

“It’s the thing inside you messing with your head,” Credence said, his voice devoid of emotion despite his inner turmoil, suddenly uneasy about Theseus wearing the face of Grindelwald.

Nodding, Wane leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a moment. “It shows me things. It’s just difficult sorting out what is our existence and what is… something else.” He smiled. “I’ve seen the four of you, the infamous Graves, Barebone, Scamander and Makarov, travel the world. I’ve seen you battle the wizard who kills Grindelwald, and a scar shaped like a lightning. I’ve seen what you become, Credence. Images of sorrow and pictures of delight.” Wane opened his eyes and focused on Credence. “But I’ve also seen a world where Dumbledore wears Scamander’s face and Scamander is someone else; in a relationship with someone else. A world where Percival Graves is dead and no one knows the name of Vasiliy Makarov. A world where you play such an important role, Credence! Or… is that this world? I can’t tell. It’s difficult to tell, you know.”

Credence exchanged a glance with Theseus, who was so unsettled that he’d forgotten to shed his disguise, before moving over to sit down next to Wane on the cot. “How did you know it was me?”

Wane looked at him and smiled like a razorblade. “Oh, that was easy. I can feel you from a mile’s distance, Credence. Surely you can feel my presence as well? We’re basically related now.”

Shaking his head, Credence scoffed. “You stole something from me. That does not make us related.”

“But it does, Credence. We’re connected until death do us part. Isn’t that lovely?”

-

“All I am where you are considered,” Credence ground out, eyes narrow with anger, “is disappointed that you lived while Scar died.”

That seemed to amuse Wane further. “You still haven’t forgotten about that outcast?”

Black smoke began to emerge from Credence and Grindelwald’s shape bled away to reveal Theseus as he stepped forward and placed a calming hand on Credence’s shoulder. 

Wane tilted his head, slightly surprised, as he looked up at him. “Theseus Scamander… What happened to Percival Graves? Changed models, Credence? Got bored?”

Credence felt Theseus’ fingers dig in a little deeper, reminding him of the dangers of unleashing the Obscurus in their present location, and he forced the darkness away. “Percival says he’ll only visit you if he gets to kill you. I think death is too easy for you after what you did.”

Raising his eyebrows in mock thoughtfulness, Wane leaned back against the wall. “That’s a bit hypocritical of you though, isn’t it, Credence? What did I do that Graves didn’t? We both sided with Grindelwald, we both betrayed your trust and he’s the only one who gets a second chance?”

“Percival regretted his actions and turned his back on Grindelwald,” Credence shot back.

“Yes,” Wane said with a hint of contempt, “I heard he did a lot of backstabbing. He betrayed the MACUSA to join up with Grindelwald. He betrayed you for your powers, he betrayed Grindelwald for you, and then the British Ministry and even Grindelwald again for Merlin knows what reason! I can’t decide whether you’re an idiot to trust him or if I’m impressed by your guts for doing so despite his track record. Maybe both.”

“You deserve to rot in here because you don’t feel an ounce of regret,” Credence said, ignoring Wane’s bait. “Scar died while fighting for what he believed in. You’ll linger here with your failure.”

Wane flinched a little at the word ‘failure’ but quickly recovered. “You know they are trying to learn what I did so they can create their own little army of Obscurials?”

“I know.” Credence replied. “But as much as I dislike you, I know that you are extremely clever and I doubt they will have the brains and the ruthlessness you possess needed to copy your work.”

That made Bathory give an acknowledging smirk. “One never knows. Some of the wizards who did research on you seemed quite ruthless.”

Credence got up, reluctant to be reminded of what had happened to him at the hands of the Ministry. “I think we’ll be going now, Theseus.”

“Wait!” Wane got up on his feet abruptly and ignored how Theseus got between him and Credence. “I can help you. I wasn’t joking when I said I’ve seen things. Get me out of here and I’ll make it worth your while; save you some of that bad stuff on your horizon.”

Credence shook his head with a faint smile. “Even if I believed you could see the future, I still wouldn’t trust a word you said.” 

“Wait!” Wane called out as they left the room and closed the door. “Wait!” Credence and Theseus could hear him yelling as they walked away. “Guards!”

Theseus placed a comforting arm around Credence’s shoulders and sent him a mild look. “Ready to head back home?”

“Very much so,” Credence replied, leaning against him. “We’re done here. For now.”

And as they disapparated away, three guards entered Wane’s room and listened to him scream about Credence Barebone and Theseus Scamander being in the building, as they had heard him claim many times before, until one of them got enough and silenced the rambling man with a paralyzing spell and an impatient roll of his eyes.  
The guards had a card game to finish and no time for Bathory’s paranoia, no matter how much he tried to convince them. They left him fighting against the spell, struggling to speak, and closed the door to the room behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

There were very few things Percival Graves and Vasiliy Alexeyevich Makarov agreed upon, but the joy of operas was one of them. With Credence and Theseus off on one of their adventures, a ‘haunting Bathory vacation’ they called it, Percival and Vasya had decided to indulge themselves with fine dining followed by the premiere opening of this season’s Carmen.

The evening was cold, but they decided to walk back to the house afterwards anyway; savoring the music and burning off some of the chocolate mousse they had over-indulged in.

They were about half-way when Graves come to an abrupt halt and glanced around with a suspicious frown.

Used to the man’s paranoia, Vasya didn’t feel too worried but glanced around as well. “Something is wrong?”

Percival’s frown deepened. “Someone is watching us…” He clenched and unclenched his hands, brimming with defensive magic. “All week, I’ve had this feeling that something was off, but this…”

Vasya studied their surroundings again, now with growing unease, and while he couldn’t see an obvious threat; he did notice how empty the streets were all of a sudden. He was reaching for his wand inside his jacket when Graves suddenly gave him a hard shove.

Landing hard, hitting the asphalt with a grunt, Makarov failed to hold his grip on his wand and it clattered to a halt a small distance away. He also registered the flashes of magic flying above him.

Percival blocked spells coming from all around them with flicks of his hands and he seemed more angry than worried. Considering how strong the wizard was, Vasya knew it would take more than a handful of regular wizards to take him down. But the question he wanted answered was; who would be stupid enough to attack them?

Lying flat on his stomach, Vasya tried to spot their attackers, seeing a couple of shadowy figures in the alleyways nearby, but he didn’t recognize any of them. Deciding to give Percival some help, he reached out to summon his wand back.  
Before he could speak the word, a boot came down slowly on his hand and squeezed it down hard, immobilizing it. Vasya gritted his teeth against the pain and the insolent move, and glared up at a stranger smiling down at him.

It was a man with blonde hair, brown eyes and a complete lack of fear. “Hello, Makarov.” He smiled with smug satisfaction. “Good to meet you at last. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to need your help for a bit.”

Vasya’s eyes narrowed and he muttered for the man to do something physically impossible and quite rude in Russian.

The stranger didn’t seem to understand or care, merely leaned down. “Up you go!” He promptly yanked Vasya up on his feet, but only to hold him in front of himself, and a firm pressure to his neck revealed the presence of the man’s wand.

“Percival Graves,” the stranger called out, “I think that’s quite enough.”

Graves, having already knocked out three attackers, was focusing on the two remaining when he was interrupted. Glancing back, seeing Makarov held hostage, he sneered angrily but lowered his hands and turned to face them.

-

“Don’t be bigger idiot than usual,” Vasya muttered, “Graves, fight!”

Percival’s lips tugged at a slight smile. “Do you have any idea what that Brit of yours would do to me if I let you get hurt?” He then rolled his shoulders and eyed the stranger holding Vasya captive with a cold look. “Besides, I’m not scared of these cowards.”

“Excellent!” The stranger chirped by Vasya’s ear and before the Russian could do anything, he gave some signal to the two behind Percival and they both hit Graves in the back with stunning spells.

“Percival!” Vasya called out as Graves collapsed. He automatically moved forward but was yanked back again and the stranger then slowly circled to stand in front of Makarov. In the background, the other two crouched down to take a hold of Percival’s arms and lift him up.

“Stay right there, Captain,” the stranger ordered, holding his wand up in a threatening gesture. “We’re only here for him.”

“Who are you?” Vasya grit out.

“You can call me John Doe,” was the cryptic reply. “I’m someone who gets what people wants and sells it to them for a whole lot of gold.” He grinned widely. “I just happen to know that there are a whole lot of wizards who would pay huge amounts to get Percival Graves as their personal toy!”

“I will not allow it.” It was as simple as that.

John Doe chuckled. “You won’t allow it? You; Captain Vasiliy Alexeyevich Makarov, formerly of the Russian Intelligence Sector. A war veteran who served in black ops and was sent to London to aid in the battle against Grindelwald, until you decided to quit all off a sudden and elope with a band of wanted fugitives.” Seeing the startled look on Makarov’s face, Doe’s smile returned. “Yes, I know everything about you. About all of you. And that is why I can tell you, Captain, that you… are a nobody. Graves and Scamander are wizards far above your level and the Obscurial, well, he’s in a league of his own all together. People will pay for them, enemies and people with appetites, but you? There is nothing special about you, my friend. I read your entire file and it was a quick read. So, no offence, but I have no use for you.”

Vasya’s eyes narrowed, quiet rage simmering there, but he was helpless against the stunning spell that hit him.

When Makarov woke up, he was lying on the asphalt and there was no sign of Percival Graves, John Doe or his crew. Shaking his head, trying to shake off the residual dizziness from the spell, he grabbed his wand lying conveniently next to him and got up on his feet. Swaying a little, he replayed what had happened in his head and decided what to do.

Apparating from place to place, gathering what he needed and obliviating those unfortunate enough to get in his way, he then headed back to the house to get the things he needed for a location spell.

He knew the spell would work. John Doe wasn’t foolish enough to think that they wouldn’t come after him and he’d already said he had an interest in Theseus and little Credence. Vasya would just have to be smarter than the trap that was bound to be waiting for them. 

Bringing Seuska and Creeshya was not an option. One, he had no idea how fast they could get back home and who knew what Graves was going through as the seconds passed. Two, Vasya would not risk losing all of them. Three, John Doe had a lesson to be learned.  
And when the spell did work and Makarov knew exactly where to find Percival Graves; Vasya smiled with cold satisfaction.

-

The first soft thump didn’t really register much with John Doe. He vaguely noticed the sound, but didn’t think much of it. Five minutes later, he heard it again and spent a few seconds wondering what had caused it but quickly turned his attention back to writing his letters proclaiming Percival Graves for sale once more. He had so many owls to send out and no time to lose. Each letter had to be worded carefully to entice and secure him his gold.

It took over fifteen minutes before the third thump could be heard, but this time Doe put down his pen and listened intently. There was something unsettling about that noise. It didn’t belong there. He knew every sound in their little headquarters, carefully chosen because of its out of the way location, and he’d placed warding sigils everywhere to warn him of anyone apparating or spells being cast inside their walls, so what was causing that sound?

That was when the door to his office was slammed open and one of his crew came in with a panicked look on his face. “They’re gone! Carl, Hecuba and Simon, they’ve just vanished!”

John got up, instantly alert. “They’re here. I didn’t expect them this quick. We need to get to Connor and Graves, now!”

They managed to take two steps outside his office before there was the sound of a gunshot and a spray of blood hit Doe’s face. He stared in shocked horror as the man next to him collapsed, dead before he hit the ground. 

Frightened, John broke into a mad run down the hall. He sprinted up the stairs to the second floor, turned a corner and ran straight into Makarov. Coming to an abrupt halt with a grunt, chest to chest with the other man who placed a firm grip on his shoulder, John Doe stared wide eyed at the Russian.

“Only magical acts and equipment gets registered in official records.” Makarov said in a neutral voice. “It didn’t occur to you that there is a reason why there is so little in my file?” He tried not to smile and failed. “It’s because I’m very good at what I do.”

John Doe tasted blood in his mouth and he slowly shifted his gaze from the sniper rifle on Vasiliy’s back, to the gun with the silencer sticking out of his jacket pocket, and finally down to where the Russian had driven a knife in between Doe’s ribs.

“You think I don’t know how out of my league I am with those three? It didn’t enter your mind to consider how hard I have to work and how inventive I got to be to keep up with them at all?” He made no effort to hide his contempt. “Amateur.” Vasiliy muttered and rammed the knife deeper, twisting it. Pulling the knife free, side-stepping the spray of blood, he watched impassively as John Doe crashed to his knees and toppled over.

John Doe and his followers didn’t matter. He had to locate Graves.

Finding and finishing off the last one of Doe’s crew was easy and Vasiliy was relieved to find Percival Graves unharmed. Still unconscious, either the two spells knocked him out real good or they’d cast them again, but he was breathing and showed no signs of injuries. Good. Vasiliy reached out and gently drew light fingertips along Percival’s jawline before turning away and focusing again.

He’d do a quick clean up, covering his tracks had always been his specialty, and then get Graves home before he woke up.

-

And when Percival Graves opened his eyes with a groggy moan, hours later, he found himself lying on the sofa back in the house he shared with Credence, Theseus and Makarov. Blinking a couple of times, he gathered enough willpower to sit up and slicked his hair back with both hands. 

While the fog slowly lifted from his mind and he remembered the ambush, he focused his gaze on Makarov sitting in the other sofa, reading.  
“Hey,” Graves called out, “what happened?”

Vasiliy didn’t even have the decency to look up from his book. “After they knocked you out, I took care of rest.”

Frowning, Graves did not believe him for one second. “No. Really. What happened? How did we get away? Will they be back? We need to make sure they don’t get to Credence or Theseus, you know.”

“They won’t be back.” Makarov finally glanced up from his book and looked at him. 

It was stated as a dry fact and there was no doubt or emotion in Vasiliy’s eyes. Percival realized he believed him.  
“How did you…?” Graves got up on his feet, back to his old self by now. “And tell me the truth, or I’ll get Theseus to find out.”

A faint smile tugged on Makarov’s lips and he turned his gaze back to his book. “Do that and you must tell him all that happened.” Which included them being in danger, Graves surrendering to protect Makarov and then Vasya saving the day.

Realizing there was no way he was doing that, Graves was so busy glaring at Makarov that he barely noticed Theseus and Credence actually apparating in the hallway, happy chatter between them. 

“Oh, hey, they aren’t trying to kill each other!” Theseus declared out loud as he entered the room. “I knew they could play nice if they wanted to!” He patted Percival’s chest as he passed by him and headed straight for Makarov. “Wow, I missed you.” Theseus then proceeded to shove Vasya’s book away, straddle his lap, take his face between both of his hands and draw him into languid kisses.

Credence came to a halt next to Percival, making a thoughtful sound. “Well, I certainly feel like I failed to keep him entertained.” Huffing a laugh, he glanced up at Percival. “And what have you two been up to?”

Noting how Makarov’s glance slid his way without breaking the kiss, Percival clenched his jaw briefly to contain his anger, before gritting out; “Nothing special. Fine dining and the opera. Same old boring deal.”

“Uh huh,” Credence said, not convinced, but took Percival’s hand in his instead of prodding further. “We had an interesting experience at least. How about I tell you about that?”

Noting how Makarov managed to smile into a kiss, Percival turned his entire attention to Credence. “How about we retire to our room and I make you scream?”

Utterly unprepared for such a statement, Credence flushed with nervous excitement. “O-or we can do that. Sure. Okay.”

And Percival Graves kept his word.


End file.
